Claire Bennet (
regenerated) wrote2011-04-03 10:12 pm
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Entry tags:
have I been saved, or do I still need saving?
Night had fallen when Claire Bennet took a seat outside the Compound, the elastic of the trampoline stretching under her, her shoes carefully lined up on the grass below— a pair of yellow flip-flops with orange jelly blossoms. Where the air had been humid all day, now it was cooler, helped along by a steady breeze that blew Claire's hair to the side, blonde strands uncharacteristically limp. She hadn't bothered to curl them that day. Had anyone come across her at that point, they would have seen her fumbling with the settings of her camcorder, making sure that the battery was fully charged, finding a setting that would record even in the dark of night. Off and to the side, there was a blank tape, and on its label words written carefully with purple ink:
ISLAND: ATTEMPT #1
With her legs crossed, she slipped the blank tape in, turned the camcorder until she could look directly into the lens. Her thumb pressed the record button. Claire took a deep breath; it wavered, slightly, before she began to speak.
"This is Claire Bennet. I've been on this island for over three-quarters of a year. They call it Tabula Rasa, because everyone comes here and gets a blank slate. I guess I've taken advantage of that. I've... made friends, I've kind of got a family, I walk around here like I'm normal, and for a few months, I thought it was totally working. And then people started finding out, one by one, and no one's thrown me into a room, or tested on me, or all of those things that dad had to protect me from back home, so I thought that it was okay. That I could just be like anyone else on this island."
Her gaze dropped, her hold on the camera faltering, angle tilting.
"But I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm still a freak. Maybe I shouldn't... be afraid of being one. I can feel you rolling your eyes at me right now, Zach. It's just— I feel so empty these days, like I'm just pretending, or going through the motions. I need to remember who I really am. And if that means that I'm going to spend the rest of my days on this island fighting, I'll deal. So."
Claire slid off the side of the trampoline, placing the camcorder carefully until it was pointed at a spot on the roof, and stepped back a few paces until she was in its view again.
"This is Claire Bennet, and this is going to be attempt number one."
Her heart thudded. Pulse raced. Claire immediately turned and ran, feeling the earth under her feet as she tugged open the door, raced up the steps in her bare feet, eyes afraid and darting around, making sure no one was watching. She'd carefully picked out this time, after weeks of just loitering around. When the halls of the Compound were quiet, silent save for the occasional squeaky door or flushing toilet, when anyone found wandering had eyes heavy and lidded with sleep. Deserted, but safer than the deep island forests that shuddered at night with murmurs and the quiet chirp of crickets.
She burst onto the roof with a sharp intake of air, arms held wide, a shiver running down her spine. Carefully, she walked to its edge, until toes hung over the side of the roof and her balance began to falter. A hesitant smile was already teasing at her lips, breath stilled, skirt billowing with a gust of wind. Closing her eyes, with her arms held out she leaned forward, and for one second felt time suspended with her weightlessness, before gravity took hold and sent her hurtling down.
The scream didn't even last half a second before Claire felt herself colliding with the ground, a crack sounding before she rolled onto her back. This was normal. It always hurt at first. Blood pooled in the back of her throat, coppery to taste, bubbling from her lips as Claire coughed, trying to clear her airway for a much needed breath. One second. Two seconds. It shouldn't have taken long to heal.
Instead, the pain remained, stars shooting behind her eyes as Claire wheezed. Her lungs weren't filling. Shaking, Claire swallowed thickly, looking to the side and managing to curl the fingers of her hand into a fist.
Help, she tried to say, but all that escaped was a soft whine.
ISLAND: ATTEMPT #1
With her legs crossed, she slipped the blank tape in, turned the camcorder until she could look directly into the lens. Her thumb pressed the record button. Claire took a deep breath; it wavered, slightly, before she began to speak.
"This is Claire Bennet. I've been on this island for over three-quarters of a year. They call it Tabula Rasa, because everyone comes here and gets a blank slate. I guess I've taken advantage of that. I've... made friends, I've kind of got a family, I walk around here like I'm normal, and for a few months, I thought it was totally working. And then people started finding out, one by one, and no one's thrown me into a room, or tested on me, or all of those things that dad had to protect me from back home, so I thought that it was okay. That I could just be like anyone else on this island."
Her gaze dropped, her hold on the camera faltering, angle tilting.
"But I don't know anymore. Maybe I'm still a freak. Maybe I shouldn't... be afraid of being one. I can feel you rolling your eyes at me right now, Zach. It's just— I feel so empty these days, like I'm just pretending, or going through the motions. I need to remember who I really am. And if that means that I'm going to spend the rest of my days on this island fighting, I'll deal. So."
Claire slid off the side of the trampoline, placing the camcorder carefully until it was pointed at a spot on the roof, and stepped back a few paces until she was in its view again.
"This is Claire Bennet, and this is going to be attempt number one."
Her heart thudded. Pulse raced. Claire immediately turned and ran, feeling the earth under her feet as she tugged open the door, raced up the steps in her bare feet, eyes afraid and darting around, making sure no one was watching. She'd carefully picked out this time, after weeks of just loitering around. When the halls of the Compound were quiet, silent save for the occasional squeaky door or flushing toilet, when anyone found wandering had eyes heavy and lidded with sleep. Deserted, but safer than the deep island forests that shuddered at night with murmurs and the quiet chirp of crickets.
She burst onto the roof with a sharp intake of air, arms held wide, a shiver running down her spine. Carefully, she walked to its edge, until toes hung over the side of the roof and her balance began to falter. A hesitant smile was already teasing at her lips, breath stilled, skirt billowing with a gust of wind. Closing her eyes, with her arms held out she leaned forward, and for one second felt time suspended with her weightlessness, before gravity took hold and sent her hurtling down.
The scream didn't even last half a second before Claire felt herself colliding with the ground, a crack sounding before she rolled onto her back. This was normal. It always hurt at first. Blood pooled in the back of her throat, coppery to taste, bubbling from her lips as Claire coughed, trying to clear her airway for a much needed breath. One second. Two seconds. It shouldn't have taken long to heal.
Instead, the pain remained, stars shooting behind her eyes as Claire wheezed. Her lungs weren't filling. Shaking, Claire swallowed thickly, looking to the side and managing to curl the fingers of her hand into a fist.
Help, she tried to say, but all that escaped was a soft whine.
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Catching sight of the blonde was confirmation enough, and as she knelt down beside the girl, she glanced back up. "There's a stretcher in the clinic," she said, calm and clear. "I need you to go and get that for me and send someone for Peter Parker, to tell him we're gonna need the O.R." She turned her attention back to the girl on the ground, taking in the injuries she could see, going through a mental checklist of ones it was possible she couldn't. "Stay focused on me, alright? I'm Dr. Grey. Can you hear me alright?"
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She blinked her eyes back into focus when the doctor knelt down by her side. "Peter?" Claire asked, keeping her voice to a whisper. "Peter's here? Is he oka— I'm fine, really. It's not as bad as it looks."
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She reached down for the blonde's hand, still watching her closely. "I'm going to have to take you into the O.R., alright?" she said. "We'll get you taken care of. Can you squeeze my fingers?"
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Blinking rapidly as she looked upward, Claire felt a tear or two trailing down to her ears. She managed to close her hand around the doctor's hand easily enough, although the grip felt weak even to her. "Sorry," she said, "It's a little hard to... I feel like my hand doesn't have any strength left."
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Wincing, Claire shook her head. "I'm fine, I swear. I'm Claire Bennet. I'm seventeen. Was co-captain of the cheerleading squad at Union Wells High School in Odessa, Texas. My dad... works at a paper factory. And here, I live with Eden, Eden McCain." Turning her eyes to the doctor again, Claire tried for a few more breaths, still feeling the air pass through her, voice hardly catching at all. "Just fix things before Eden sees? I've gotten into scrapes before, I don't mind, but she—"
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"When I say scrapes, I mean..." Claire inhaled softly, still feeling the air catch somewhere, not filling her lungs completely. "This isn't the first time I've broken bones. Or my ribs, actually."
The harder it got to speak, the quieter Claire became, looking up at the doctor with watchful eyes, hoping that she'd get to the O.R. soon. Wondering what being put to sleep was like, in spite of everything else that swirled around her just then.
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"Okay," she whispered. "Okay. Gonna be fine."